


No Interruptions

by sassafrasx



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Action/Adventure, And Merlin Is So Done with Them Both, Eggsy as Galahad, Fluff, Harry Hart Lives, Harry as Arthur, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mission Fic, Missions Gone Wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-18 19:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4717919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassafrasx/pseuds/sassafrasx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry finds the ring in Addis Ababa.</p><p>Finding a way to give the ring to Eggsy, however, proves to be another matter entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Interruptions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LaufeysKid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaufeysKid/gifts).



Harry finds the ring in Addis Ababa. He isn't looking for a ring, hasn't even truly considered the prospect of marriage — his life has never lent itself to thoughts of the long term, only Kingsman and each moment as it comes — but deep in the Shiro Meda a ring catches his eye anyway.

It's a thick band of gold and feels solid in his hand, with a simple, elegant design that somehow manages to seem ancient at the same time. Unique. And Harry isn't looking for a ring, but now that it's there in his hands it seems like the most natural and logical thing in the world to meet the shrewd gaze of the stall's owner and ask, "How much?"

Which is how Harry ends up scanning for his contact in the market with a ring hidden safely in the folds of his suit, a promise for later, and admiring the way the mountains rise up starkly at his back, the scent of coffee and berbere thick in the air. He smiles, a deep sense of satisfaction settling around him.

Finding a way to give the ring to Eggsy, however, proves to be another matter entirely.

~*~

It takes Harry a few weeks to plan everything out to his exacting standards. And no matter what Merlin says, he’s not being snippy and broody about it either (not that Merlin knows what _it_ is).

Everything with Eggsy had fallen into place so easily, naturally even; they’d simply slotted into each other’s lives in a way that Harry’s never had before. He’s never lacked for lovers, certainly, but the number of people he could actually trust enough to bring home, let alone keep them there, has been wanting to say the least.

And then there was Eggsy, bright, incorrigible Eggsy, and Harry wants to do this right, whatever that even means. For Christ’s sake, he’s never cared the slightest about marriage, assumed he would be a bachelor forever if he’s being honest, but for reasons unfathomable even to himself, he’s determined to make sure it all goes perfectly. If there’s one thing Harry’s never doubted, it’s that Eggsy deserves the very best.

So he plots and makes reservations and thinks through every meticulous detail and tells Eggsy he wants to take him out on the following Friday. And he waits.

~*~

On Friday Eggsy has to fly to Chengdu at the last moment, and he smiles apologetically at Harry as he dashes out to the jet, just stopping long enough for a thorough kiss, and Harry tells him to try a hot pot for him — it’s been years since Harry’s had a proper Sichuan one.

Then Harry sighs and goes back to the drawing board.

~*~

After five more aborted dinners that have to be cancelled due to new intelligence, Harry stares at Merlin suspiciously. But Merlin does not as of yet have the ability to read minds as far as Harry is aware, so he can't be deliberately ruining all of Harry's plans.

Harry doesn't completely rule it out, though.

~*~

So Harry plans a night in, one where he knows Eggsy will be coming home not long after him, and makes gnocchi bolognese because Eggsy _loves_ gnocchi and bolognese, possibly too much, and always lights up whenever Harry finds the time to make either of them, which unfortunately isn’t often at all.

Harry growls a bit at the gnocchi, sticky uncooperative little buggers that they are, and it’s not until he’s going to put them in boiling water that he notices the movement out of the corner of his eye. It’s furtive, skulking, and absolutely not in a manner that Eggsy would ever move _in his own goddamn home_.

Harry opens the drawer where he keeps one of his backup handguns and that, of course, is when everything goes to absolute shit.

As his gun goes flying and he tosses the boiling water in the livid face of the former KGB agent he’d burned during the Cold War, Harry groans. Just fucking typical, really, why wouldn’t Anatoliy choose today of all days to find him and follow him home from his trip out to the market. Anatoliy had always been a right annoying bastard.

~*~

Thankfully, when all is said and done and Eggsy has stumbled home in time to help Harry subdue the bloody idiot dumb enough to attack Harry by himself in Harry’s own home, Anatoliy appears to have been filled with so much righteous anger at coming across Harry (or, as Anatoliy remembers him from Beirut, David White) that he immediately followed him home and didn’t think to tell any of his associates about his discovery of Harry’s whereabouts.

Harry still scowls at the irreparably burnt bolognese. He has an entire evening of paperwork and security checks ahead.

~*~

Harry decides that it must be London that is the problem and maybe a bit of a holiday is in order.

~*~

The humid air is a heavy living weight around them that heaves and rolls with their every move and Harry nearly laughs at the pathetic sight they make, huddled in a hut in some far flung corner of the Amazon, mud and god knows what else stuck into every crevice and pore whilst they wait for the _entire fucking platoon_ of soldiers of unknown origin and loyalty to make their move. Well, whatever their loyalty might be, they sure as hell want Harry and Eggsy dead, so the exact logistics probably doesn’t matter at the moment.

Harry and Eggsy are fucked.

Harry isn’t even allowed on real missions anymore, not now that he's Arthur — although not for lack of trying. He only blusters his way into going out to meet contacts occasionally because, as much as he loves London, if he doesn’t actually _do something_ every once in a while he will go insane.

He'd be lying if he said that he hadn't missed this, though, blood up, the adrenaline and anticipation. But he'd prefer if the odds weren't quite so bloody awful as they are. He's not in his twenties anymore and has grown rather fond of his continued existence on this earth. And Eggsy.

Especially Eggsy.

Harry snorts as he counts out all the bullets he has left (nowhere near enough) and thinks about the reservations he’d made for the night in Cartagena, reservations he’d made well before they’d been chased out of their simple reconnaissance mission in Bogotá — _so, basically a paid holiday, yeah, Harry?_ — and far, far out into the Colombian jungle. Somehow. Some of the details were a little lost in the whole running for their lives bit, and Harry isn’t exactly sure where they are now for that matter, just that it is in the exact opposite direction of the very nice hotel and beautiful city and coastline which he’d wanted to show Eggsy. And how do soldiers just fucking appear out of thin air anyway? Christ, what a sodding mess.

“ _Fucking shitwanks_ ,” Eggsy growls as he paws around the hut and then squawks, flinging an enormous insect off his arm, and scowls at Harry as if he is personally responsible for their predicament — and considering the number of people who might hold a grudge strong enough to chase Harry into the Amazon, it’s not necessarily an inaccurate assessment. "If there's tarantulas here I'm razing the entire bleeding rainforest, I don't care what anyone says. _The entire bleeding thing_ , you get me?"

“Anything for us yet, Merlin?” Harry asks and closes his eyes. He specifically doesn't mention the many species of tarantula known to inhabit the Amazon — partially because that's a fact even he doesn't care to think about.

“Shit fucking _cunting arseholes_ , who the fuck are you—” Harry tunes Merlin back out; it’s the same rant he was on ten minutes ago.

Harry sighs, “Well this day isn’t going how I planned at all.”

With a glower at Harry that conveys precisely how well Eggsy thinks his ‘holiday’ is going, he yanks at what’s left of his tie and rips it off, unbuttoning the entire top half of his shirt. “‘M fucking boiling, if this suit weren’t bulletproof I’d fight off these dickheads _starkers_ , fucking hell.”

Eggsy’s suit is muddy and dirty beyond repair and his glasses are bent on one side, but the faint light streaming in through the window catches the angle of his jaw, the strong lines of his shoulders and thick, muscular thighs, even underneath all the muck, and Harry can’t help but admire the barely contained energy in the shape of his body, the way he prowls in the confined space. The gritted teeth and blood and sweat and fierce green eyes shouldn’t be as much of a turn on as they are in that moment, but they are, oh, _they are_.

Eggsy is utterly gorgeous. And no matter that Harry has known that ever since Eggsy walked out of that police station and back into his life, it still manages to amaze Harry and strike him anew every damn time, and his heart lurches painfully in his chest. Eggsy is gorgeous and loyal and so, so _good_ in a way that Harry probably doesn’t deserve, but is much too selfish to doubt.

Harry blinks at Eggsy for a bit, where he’s now bent down and digging at the dirt floor with his hands in deep concentration, and blurts, “Marry me?”

Merlin starts up again in his ear, “Really? _Now_ seems like the time for this shite?” but Harry blocks that out too, until Merlin finally has something useful to say, and watches the way Eggsy freezes and turns wide eyes back up at him.

And now that Harry’s mouth has opened it seems to have decided that it really can’t stop: “I have a ring, you know, in my luggage on the jet. Actually I’ve had it since I went to Ethiopia months ago. It caught my eye and I just knew… Of course whenever I plan to ask you, it all manages to go spectacularly tits up. The last time Merlin cursed this much during a mission, back up never made it, so I suppose there’s no time like the present: would you do me the honour of marrying me, Eggsy Unwin?”

Eggsy smiles for the first time in hours, eyes gone warm and soft, and says, hushed, “Nothing would make me happier,” and then fiddles with something on the ground, a latch popping open. "But I'm really not appreciating this pessimistic tone of yours. Now that I got the idea in my head, I rather like the sound of it, dunno about you, so I fully intend to see what your arse looks like in a wedding tux," he continues and pulls out an AK-47 with a manic grin.

It's an older model, probably hasn't been used since the early 90s, but Harry has never seen anything more beautiful than Eggsy crouched over some drug lord's forgotten, decades-old weapons stash. "Oh, _thank fuck_ ," he breathes, as Merlin shouts in his ear, " _Yes, Galahad!_ "

Harry wastes no time dashing forward and sorting through the weapons — an assortment of rifles and an actual ton of grenades. Eggsy beams, immediately stuffing as many grenades on himself as inconceivably possible. Harry leaves him to it, humming under his breath as he inspects his rifles more closely.

AK-47 in one hand, Eggsy grabs Harry by his tie in the other and tugs him in for a wet, forceful kiss, all tongue and teeth and spit, and then pulls back, eyes glittering behind his crooked frames. "Let's go kick some possible narcoterrorist arse. I’ve been told I have a ring waiting for me."

Harry smirks and leans his forehead against Eggsy’s. “That’s the best plan I’ve heard all day.”

~*~

Eggsy lobs a grenade from around a tree, then breaks off into a roll, coming up next to Harry, and pants with a considering look on his face as Harry fires into the confusion he left behind. “So, whose surname are we gonna take? Or are we gonna do one of them fancy hyphenated things?"

Harry ducks back behind the tree and gives Eggsy an incredulous look.

Merlin growls, " _Seriously_ , Galahad?! _Quit faffing about, you cheeky little_ —”

Shrugging, Eggsy unpins another grenade with his teeth and runs out, Harry providing cover. "Well, it's just that, you gotta think about what surname the children will take, yeah? Hyphenation really don’t solve anything. I mean, what happens when they get married?”

Harry flings himself behind a tree and shouts, “ _Children?!_ I’m old enough to be a grandfather. And we’re spies, for God’s sake, who in their right mind would allow us to be responsible for children.” At this point, Merlin’s rant has gotten so thick that Harry thinks it might’ve once resembled English, but it certainly doesn't anymore.

And Eggsy actually pouts at him at that, another grenade pulled out of God knows where. “Awww, but you’re so good with Daisy, Harry. You’d be an amazing father.”

Merlin snarls in the background, “ _GODDAMMIT, GALAHAD, CODENAMES._ ”

~*~

“What kind of flowers do you think—”

“ _MISSION, GALAHAD._ ”

“But Daisy—”

“ _THE MISSION, FUCK’S SAKE._ ”

~*~

Harry sighs down at the destruction all around them, the adrenaline in his system finally settling into a low thrum now that they’re double-checking that the area is secure. "We were supposed to leave for Cartagena three hours ago."

Eggsy wipes ineffectually at the mud on his face and says, "No offense, but at this point I'm looking forward to nothing more than the cold and dreary back home. We can always go to Cartagena for our honeymoon, if you like it that much."

There’s at least another hour and a half until back up and extraction arrive, and hours more until they sort out this mess enough so that they can finally leave this hellhole. Harry scowls at the sky.

"No, for our honeymoon we are going into a bunker for six days, where absolutely no one will be able to break in, _and there will be no interruptions_."

Picking through the debris, Eggsy nods thoughtfully. "Underground, impenetrable bunker. Sex for six days straight. Sounds perfect. Only six days though? Think you're selling yourself a bit short, old man," Eggsy says and waggles his eyebrows.

Harry snorts. "Six days is the longest I can leave the children alone at headquarters before things start exploding."

"Mmmm, there is that." Eggsy cocks his head at Harry with a glint in his eye. "Will there be things to explode in the bunker?"

"You know, Eggsy, as your boss I should probably be concerned about your love for explosives," Harry says and rolls his eyes.

"And as your fiancé?" Eggsy beams up at Harry.

Harry wraps an arm around Eggsy’s waist and smiles into his hair. "As attractive and endearing as the rest of you, my dear."

 


End file.
